Chapter: 38
As she ran, she thought.
If he had come all this way, it meant he already knew that Jeanne had become a knight of Loren.
Then… what should she say when they met?
How did you find out?
That sounded shameless.
I’m sorry?
No. She had deceived him, but she had done it to survive.
I’ll explain everything?
Explain what—I know the future? There was no way he’d believe that.
She hadn’t said a single word yet, but her throat was already tight. Even though she knew her choice had been right, her heart felt unbearably heavy.
Clutching that stone-heavy feeling in her chest, she stopped in front of the parlor door. Her entire body trembled with tension. Cold sweat gathered in her palms, and Jeanne wiped her hands roughly against her trousers.
No. Calm down. Maybe this is a chance—like with Cassis—to fix a tragedy. A chance to save Father.
She forced herself to think positively. Only then could she calm down and persuade him logically.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
At the sound, Jacques turned his head.
His eyes widened until the whites showed.
Seeing an expression she had never once seen on her father’s face, Jeanne froze like a stone statue. All the words she had prepared vanished from her mind.
Silence stretched on. Slowly, Jacques’ eyelids lowered as his gaze swept over Jeanne from head to toe.
As if confirming that what he was seeing was real.
His gaze was gentle yet icy. Jeanne flinched. She closed the parlor door behind her and hurried toward him, almost at a run. She didn’t know how he had found out, but first she had to explain—before he misunderstood anything.
“Father…”
She knelt on one knee before him. She believed that if she took his hand, even a fraction of her sincerity might reach him.
“So, what happened is—”
Smack!
Her vision flipped in an instant.
Before she knew it, her head had snapped to the right. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed across her left cheek a moment later.
Time seemed to move slower for Jeanne. Her body, her thoughts—everything.
Clutching her burning cheek, she slowly turned her head.
“Fa—”
Smack!
This time, her vision shook violently. The blow to her other cheek was even harder than the first.
Jeanne collapsed onto the red carpet. Though long retired, Jacques’ hand still struck with brutal force. Her right cheek, her nape, her palm scraped against the floor—everything hurt.
But the pain in her body was nothing compared to what followed.
“…How could you,”
Jacques’ voice trembled.
“…disappoint me like this.”
“……”
“How could someone who swore loyalty to the royal family—”
As if overwhelmed, Jacques began pounding his own chest with his fist.
Thud. Thud.
Each heavy sound felt like a nail being driven into Jeanne’s heart.
“Do you think I gave you a sword for this? I told you to repay His Highness’ kindness, and you stab him in the back?”
“……”
“My own daughter—how could you…!”
Jacques raged as if he himself had been betrayed. And because it was true, Jeanne couldn’t refute him—nor could she tell him everything.
There were so few words she could say, but she forced herself to speak.
“…I’m sorry.”
Whether he was disappointed, betrayed—whatever it was, she could accept the blame.
“I’m sorry.”
She repeated the apology.
“I’m truly sorry, Father.”
If only he would calm down, listen—surely he would understand.
“But please, just hear me out. I’ll explain everything, so—”
“Explain what? That you used your connection as the Grand Duke’s old classmate to live comfortably? Or that you were planning to weasel your way into becoming his mistress?”
“…What?”
That was when it began.
The sharp ringing in her ears, replacing his voice.
The endless thread of apologies snapping clean in two.
The stifling air around her turning cold as ice.
[Did you think dressing things up like this would earn you a position as His Highness’ mistress?]
Why did it have to be—
[I thought you were just a monster who hunted beasts.]
Father. You—
[Turns out you know how to play the temptress too.]
The exact same words she had said.
[Disgusting.]
“If I’d known you were capable of such filthy behavior, I would’ve—”
Why tear me apart with the words that hurt the most?
Mid-rant, Jacques suddenly stopped. His lips pressed thin, as if he realized too late what he was about to say.
But Jeanne already knew what came next.
“Would’ve what?”
“……”
“Would it have been better if I’d died instead of Mother?”
Her voice, clouded by guilt only moments ago, turned sharp and cold in an instant. Even so, she waited—desperately—for him to say that’s not what I meant.
“…In any case, resign immediately and return to Prince Alexis. Go and beg for forgiveness.”
Instead, Jacques drove an even crueler blade into her chest.
From the person she had wanted to protect the most, she was told to go to hell.
Everything felt meaningless.
“No.”
“…What?”
Without knowing anything—
“And who are you to talk down to me like that?”
Without knowing how horrific the years she had spent as Alexis’ sword truly were.
“You gave your loyalty and ended up crippled for life—did the Brienne royal family ever properly compensate you? No. They threw you away once you were useless.”
Without knowing how badly she wanted to tear those memories out, burn them, and throw even the ashes into a bottomless abyss—
“Jeanne, you—”
“Swear loyalty to the royal family? After what they did to you, after what they did to me? After everything I went through?!”
Something burst inside her. It felt as if her lungs were being twisted apart. If she didn’t consciously breathe, she thought she might suffocate.
She had believed she just needed to endure. That the pain creeping up was only a remnant of the past, something that would evaporate if buried. That starting over would fix everything.
She was wrong.
It had been festering inside her all along, slowly rotting.
Wounds of the heart weren’t meant to be covered up. They had to be cut open and drained.
Jeanne’s eyes burned red. Jacques’ face went deathly pale. Even after spilling everything, what hurt most was knowing she had dumped her grotesque wounds onto the person she least wanted to hurt.
She hadn’t wanted to see that expression.
But driven by a pitiful scrap of pride, she spoke against her true feelings.
“Loyalty? You can give that to a passing dog.”
She unbuckled the sword at her waist and threw it at Jacques’ feet. The blade he had given her on the day she first awakened her aura clattered helplessly against the floor.
“I won’t live like you—clinging to foolish regrets.”
Swallowing back tears that threatened to spill, Jeanne turned away. Jacques called her name in a weak voice, but she didn’t stop.
She slammed the door and ran outside. It felt like someone had been standing there, but she didn’t look. She just wanted to run—far away, somewhere empty.
* * *
His fingertips were cold.
From his hometown to this very moment, Jacques Leclerc’s hands had never warmed.
They had first grown cold the day Alexis suddenly appeared in the village.
The young prince who had once toddled unsteadily as a child now stood before him as a full-grown man.
Jacques couldn’t even guess why he had come, after more than a decade, to such a remote rural village. He had stood frozen like a fool.
[Ah. Stay as you are. I’ve already heard of your circumstances.]
Grateful for the prince’s consideration toward a man whose legs were too damaged to kneel, Jacques was still unprepared for what followed.
[The truth is… Jeanne has joined the Loren knight order.]
[…What?]
[Judging by your reaction, you didn’t know.]
[No, why would my daughter—]
[I wanted to know as well, so I just returned from Loren. Jeanne said she accepted an offer from the Grand Duke.]
He couldn’t believe it.
Before leaving home, his daughter had sworn to repay the royal family’s kindness with loyalty. She had never once lied to him.
Why?
[I can’t believe it either. All I can guess is that the offer made by the Grand Duke was no ordinary one.]
[An offer…?]
[Well, they did spend five years together at the Royal Military Academy. Perhaps he said it would be easier to serve as a knight with a close friend nearby—or, since Jeanne is beautiful, perhaps he suggested making her his mistress.]
Impossible.
Whatever the offer, his daughter was not someone who would so easily change the lord she served. Yet there was no reason for the prince to lie to him either.
[No matter how much I ordered her to return, she refused to listen.]
[M-My deepest apologies! My daughter has been disloyal to Your Highness—!]
[If you truly feel sorry, then grant me one request.]
[A request? Of course not—if you command it, I will do anything!]
[Then persuade Jeanne and bring her back. Surely she will listen to her only father.]
A Brienne royal’s words were a promise that had to be honored. Graciously, the prince even provided a carriage and escort.
Reaching Loren was easy. When he identified himself as Jeanne Leclerc’s father, the soldiers readily opened the gates.
The smoother it went, the deeper Jacques’ despair grew.
It meant his daughter truly had betrayed Brienne.
Though his fingertips grew colder by the moment, he resolved not to waver until he heard it from her directly.
[…They were holding each other.]
Until he heard the conversation leaking from outside the parlor.
